Of Cuts and stitches (part 2)

I haven't screamed enough
I haven't screamed at all.
Somewhere in my voice-box, my sounds got muffled.

I didn't scream at all
when my walls were trespassed.
The sounds lay muffled in pools of despair.

The cuts are still raw
They bleed daily.
There's little I can do with cuts that like being fresh.

I could try to scream now, to make up for that silence.
I could kick and scream it all into a distant memory.

The idea is appealing
The reality, not so forgiving.
I could scream until the pain subsided,

but these stitches would still unravel.

Of cuts and stitches

It would seem that my thoughts have thoughts of their own and when that concentric ripple occurs, I lose myself...somehow. I used to be one who expressed frustration by biting my fingers until I almost crushed the bone; used to slam doors until I could feel the vibrations in the frame; used to break things and smash them against the wall or through windows; had an argument with an ex that left both our t-shirts bleached cos I kept whacking him with a Domestos bottle. When I was upset, I went out of control. I was that girl. One with a bad temper that felt non-rehabilatable until I one day just decided that this behaviour was not cool. It was after a fight with a different ex (these poor guys...*sigh*). I won't go into the details cos well...they're not really important, but I was left with a chair in my hands (one that I don't know where nor how I got the strength to pick up and hold over my shoulder) that I was ready to fling out of the window from a hectic argument. What happened between that moment and him holding me, I can't really remember, but when my puffy eyes had subsided I found that the window was still intact. That was the last crazy thing I ever did...well...last one that constituted physical breakage/damage.

These days, I go about my days by dismissing annoyance with shrugs. Last night however, that whole daffodil-dancing-in-the-wind-AKA-"Zen"-mentality was put to the test. Ever had those spine-chilling-thoughts where you want to jump into a propeller...or jump over a bridge and onto a freeway? No? Well, I had those very images having a field-day in my head. The best thing I could do was cry...because I've forgotten how to get angry and allow the release of that anger to fulfill its cathartic purpose.

Some cuts are just too deep for tears and time to heal. Some cuts need things that'll accomapny the therapeutic bandages that are meant to heal them. Some cuts need to be left alone to bleed until there is nothing more to give, so that they can heal. My cuts, I have no solutions for...I just know that I have to break something...or smash something...and wait for the angst to seep out of those cuts before I stitch it all up again.

Four-leaf-moments

I've always trusted that every once in a while, God amuses himself by making our moments, days or months by shooting some excitement into our lives; you know, kinda to give us something to relay to our grandkids, excusing the mundane rat-race routine that'll probably be the foundation of "you need to study hard so that you can have a good life".

That fundamental conversation never quite made it to my cochlear, thus the free-spirit I am. I live for those "OH-MY-FUCKING-WORD" moments. You know, the ones you get when you look back at the epic day/night you just had and just smile. A friend of mine had one such night,  a few nights ago. It went a little like this:
Boy was roaming around The Mother City waiting for the clocks to strike 8 so that he could roll down to a Jean Grae and Pharoahe Monch gig (mind you, I expressed my utter jealousy at my not having being able to be in Cape Town). Anyway, so Boy went and chilled in front of said gig's venue and then came Girl who stepped up to him and asked him to accompany her to the shops nearby. The gentleman that he is walked Girl to the shops as as they "exchanged syllables and punctuations"and subsequently hung out together at the Hip Hop gig. He says that they really enjoyed that gig and when Pharoah and Jean were done, they chilled until the morning - listening to the DJ's spin some...CD's hey? Seeing as vinyls are being *gulp* wiped out.
This lead to a pizza-breakfast on Long Street, after which, Girl offered boy her couch so that he could get SOME shut-eye before he went home...which he politely accepted. Upon his waking up, Girl made some beats for Boy to rhyme over. Boy says that they were really dope beats and all they used was her Mac.
When he relayed this story to me, he had just left her place. So I asked him: "so, are you gonna see her again?" he said "I dunno"...which I followed on with: "do you want to"? And he came back with "She's 28, Mot!” I wasn't gonna argue with my 23 year old friend. He decided to leave it at that. As to whether they eventually did get together, I dunno. I just really liked his story.

Mama, I Got Dreams

Sometimes, I say things cos I really believe that they will happen. Sometimes, I say things cos I wish them for myself. Either way the notion of “be careful what you wish for” seldom keeps me from my mumblings.

Last year, when I heard that Phonte and 9^th Wonder would be coming to South Africa in 2012, I didn’t wait for date confirmations. I went on a tweeting spree expressing how excited I was and how I couldn’t wait for the gig.  The dates came in and I just started saying how I couldn’t wait to meet and hang out with my favourite rapper; as to how that was gonna happen, I didn’t know. Nor did I care to think of who to call to help me make this happen.

I thought about introducing a “#TlaleMeetsPhonte” trending topic on twitter…then I realized just how lame that was, so I abandoned that idea. Then came April 5^th 2012 and I start seeing tweets from 9^th and Phonte announcing their arrival and I kept my cool…right up until I got a response from Phonte (to my "DUMELA") that read: “@Tlale_K: sawubona to you as well”. This is my FAVOURITE rapper. Tweeting me. In MY territory. I stayed on that high right up until the next day when Lindiwe and I rolled through to the press conference that we wormed our way into (neither of us are media personnel…LOL). Still, I kept a level head… until the moment Kabomo introduced me to him and said: ”this is probably your biggest fan in the world…” and Phonte interrupted with “oh yeah, Tl..Tla” and all the cool that I had mustered, evaporated  as I said: “holy shit! You know me?!” and gave him a beeeeg hug before we took the above photo, with Kabomo. Hehehehe!

The Foreign Exchange

It’s interesting how Phonte and Nicolay got together via the interwebs and the very person who introduced me to their music is someone I am yet to meet, as our interactions have only ever been via the interwebs and a few telephone conversations in between.  I fell in love with that boy; we shared music and broke down lyrics and beats as we journeyed through imagined conversations we’d have when we met.

One of the songs he sent me, was “Nic’s Groove” (a Foreign Exchange featuring Little Brother, song).  This track had me by the nipples for the longest time. I had been hearing a lot of Little Brother from a regional radio station that used to play proper Hip Hop. I think the first track they broke Little Brother out with was “Good Clothes” and the line that I and the show’s host used to always exclaim was: “Take that coat off, nigguuurr” LOL! But I hadn’t vested enough interest in Little Brother to have noticed that it was a trio made up of two rappers (Phonte and Big Pooh) and a producer (9th Wonder)...until I heard The Foreign Exchange’s “Nic’s Groove”.

Little Brother

I still haven’t found the right words to describe what I felt when the bass came on and the chorus kick-started things, coupled by a few adlibs...and then slipped into Pooh's verse and got even better with the second verse: “nah it ain’t about me, I’m just an average cat/that goes to work, freestyles and kicks battle raps/and damage any nigga fucking with my habitat/me and Pooh connect like he-man and battle-Kat...” Dunno what it was about that verse, but I immediately replied to said Boy’s email and asked: “who is THAT, on the second verse?!” and he responded: “that’s Phonte. He’s one of the rappers in the Little Brother trio and the vocalist in The Foreign Exchange duo”. I’ve been on Phonte‘S music since that day. A dope rapper, that sings with equal amplitude? Come on! How do you not want to hear more of his material?

With that, came my struggle to explain who this guy was when I got asked who my favourite rapper was cos I didn’t give responses like: “Pac; Biggie; Jay-Z or Nas”. So when the news came of their imminent trip to South Africa for a gig in Joburg, I went NUTS. NUTS!

The sold-out Bassline was so electrified on the night of April 6^th that there was hardly room to manoeuvre around. Blessed was I who was in the company of a guy with whom for the past year, I’ve shared my love for Little Brother and The Foreign Exchange and Hip Hop in general with...amongst other things. I couldn’t have imagined a better way to have spent that night. From the time 9^th Wonder came on and I was at the bar...you could almost feel the place about to erupt, that’s how the excitement reverberated...and when 9^th introduced Phonte on stage, all hell broke loose. I can’t even remember what song he opened with. I was embedded in pure bliss. The moment I had thought about for so many years personified itself in front of me and I just got lost in it. It was nothing like I nor the North Carolina boys had imagined it would be like (this I confirmed after the gig with 9^th saying that that was the biggest crowd they [him and Phonte] had performed for).

What was left of the lunch

It was a beautiful night, followed by another kick-ass night with the NC guys that started at a dull birthday party before we found a perfect spot in Catz Pyjamas, Melville. Myself; Lindiwe; Kabomo and Nomusa just chilled with 9^th and Phonte...chatting and laughing about Hip Hop until the wee hours of the morning. It was a special night (read: late night/early morning) that seeped into one of my best lunches (and 9^th’s favourite), at Nomusa’s house in Diepkloof on Sunday afternoon where we were joined by our girls and the Hype Magazine crew.

I suppose I can mention how when we went to go and pick the guys up on Sunday morning, Tay asked me to remove my beret and subsequently put his “P” cap on my head J...and then later gave me some music and his Pro Beats By Dr. Dre™.  

Not in my wildest of dreams would I have believed that I would’ve actually met and hung out with Phonte Lyshod Coleman and Patrick Douthit. Moreover, I wouldn't have beleived you if you had told me that not only would I hang out with them, but that I’d hang out with them AND have them feel so at home, they genuinely had a good time...ok...maybe I would’ve believed THAT.

So, another dream manifested into a reality not even my imagination could’ve cooked up: I met my favourite rapper. 

Perhaps I should speak out loud, on how I want to win the jackpot in the Lotto? Yes.

Crack is whack!

And you'll recognise this feeeling, you've felt it before. You'll clinch your chest as your stomach turns. Your body will go ice cold, sending shivers down your malleable spine as you lose control. Frozen heart; it will begin to crack. You allowed yourself to get here: Cracking heart, breaking heart.

"I could fill a thousand pages telling you how I felt, and still you would not understand. So now I leave without a sound, except that of my heart shattering as it hits the ground"

Back 'n Forth

The ex will cue the queue of excuses...

Let No Man Put Asunder

I have the utmost respect for the Marriage Institute. When you invite God into your heart and into your relationship, you inadvertently open yourself up to the greatest understanding of love. With all my shenanigans, I have not ever come between a marriage. I just don't come between a man, a woman and God. This is a boundary one really shouldn't cross.

This morning I heard of two marriages that may have broken up because of a partner from each marriage who decided that their being married made it okay for them to be with each other. As though God may get the rightful partners of each partner confused because there are 7 billion of us on the planet. Two people were hurt when the truth peeled itself off of the pseudo-comfort, more carefully than I assume the philanderers' clothes did.

Marriage says to me: "This is the man/woman I believe God wants me to be with (for however long God chooses for us to be together on earth); to love and honour them...'' and you move on to the next stage where the bond is sealed with rings that symbolise your union that has no beginning and no end.

A part of me was truly hurt this morning as I sat and wondered about a union that's supposed to be a testament of true love, but got tainted by avarice. I just wondered at what point did this man stop loving his wife; and at what point did the wife stop loving her husband who found her in bed with his married friend after his business trip concluded prematurely?

Surely that love was never there?

Surely they didn't let God in? Because the vows say: "What God has out together, let no man put asunder."

Surely.

Later in the day, I got to hear of the story of how a man and woman so loved each other they had children that further strengthened that love for each other. After years of marriage the husband got attacked outside of their home and suffered head injuries that impaired his motor senses and attention span but not his personality. He remained the loving, positive husband and father that he swore in front of God he'd become. She remained, without feeling any sense of obligation to the vows, a loving; supportive wife and mother. He was her anchor; the love of her life. It has now been a year since he passed away. Through her pain that has not crippled her into submission, I could feel the love they shared.

The only other people that had any influence in that marriage were the children. No family. No friends. No outsiders.

LOVE isn't black and/or white. It's not either hot or cold. It's not an area of  grey that needs understanding. It's a multi-dimensional emotion that takes the bravest and most emotionally mature to understand. If you take the decision to include God in your union and to guide that love, don't look to others to dictate to you what that love can or should do.

The first of the four noble truths states that: "Ïf you are alive, you will suffer". The suffering stems from an oblivion to pain. When you recognise that there is such a thing as pain, you are able to handle it better because you are aware of its presence. Not acknowledging that there may be trials and tribulations in your marriage will lead you to mismanaging the problems and looking elsewhere for solutions.

Be with someone who acknowledges this truth. A realist and an optimist. Someone who believes in love as much as you do. Someone who is emotionally mature and wants to brave the rest of their life with you.

Take all of this with a pinch of salt. I just made the decison to be more open to love. Real love.